


Whumpy Twitter Prompts (ft. Charthur)

by Danudane



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Hunt Gone Wrong, M/M, Twitter Prompt, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-08-18 23:53:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20200273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Danudane/pseuds/Danudane
Summary: ((I found a series of whumpy prompts and decided I’d write something for a couple of them. There’s no definite number but I hope this is the first of a small series— it’s been a long time since I’ve written anything.))





	1. Chapter 1

Prompt: Charles/Arthur with no pain killers, waking up not knowing where they are, and gentle shushing. 

——

Charles had made the proposition late the night before. A trip away from camp to hunt a bison the next morning, just a little after dawn. 

Arthur had not hesitated to the offer. It would be nice, he decided, to put a little distance between him and the others— and Dutch, who seemed far too keen on throwing yet another burden on his shoulders.  
Arthur knew all too well they were running low on food supplies. He doubted he would hear the end of it from Pearson, if he didn’t bring something substantial back soon. 

Charles, ever aware, had made the suggestion at the perfect time.  
In truth, Charles was not happy with how much responsibility Dutch placed on Arthur’s shoulders. It wasn’t that Arthur was not capable— Charles had been impressed by his capabilities and handiness with a firearm more than a few times— but it was simply not his place to speak out against Dutch’s authority. Charles himself wasn’t sure how long he would keep that mindset, though, his own patience wearing thin whenever he heard Dutch lay into Arthur about certain responsibility. 

And so, they had both separately come to the conclusion that this outing would do them both some good.  
Arthur knew he wasn’t some seasoned bison hunter by any means, but he had already hunted one and that had gone well enough.  
With a well oiled rifle and River—his trusty mare—under him, what could go wrong? 

-

Finding the herd had been easy enough. Between Charles’ expert tracking skills— Arthur swore the man could track a mouse through a corn field, were the need dire enough— and sounds of low thunder the bison made when running, it was not long before they had zeroed in on their quarry. 

“Just there.” Charles spoke, as he pointed to several bison cows and their calves. “Stay away from the mothers and their calves.” The whole point was to thin the herd by a bull or two, not threaten the longevity of it by killing a nursing cow. 

“Not enough meat on the little ones anyways.” Arthur tried, a little chuckle escaping him as he joked.  
When he only got a roll of the eyes from Charles in response, he muttered a quiet “Sorry.” And nodded in acknowledgement. 

Charles shifted in his saddle and finally gave a little huff in partial amusement. “Just go for the big one, hm?” He allowed a tiny smirk, not meaning to put the other man off. 

“That I can do.” Arthur brightened, a smile gracing his own grizzled face. 

“Wait here.” Charles added, planning to survey the herd and pick out a possible second target. He barely had to tap Taima’s sides, it was if she knew exactly what to do. She kept to a slow walk and gave the bison a wide berth as not to startle them.  
Charles stroked her neck in assurance, even as she glanced back to Arthur and River who were growing smaller with the distance she put between them. 

Charles had nearly circled around back of the herd when Taima jolted to a stop. 

A crack of gunfire rang out, and with it a curse escaped Charles’ mouth. Had Arthur taken a shot, before being given a signal? The herd was likely to stampede in their panic, and would be unpredictable at best. 

It was only seconds before Charles had Taima turning back, back up over the crest of a small hill that would be the shortest distance back to where he’d left Arthur. 

Panic had indeed already erupted, however, the bison scattering into smaller groups and fleeing in different directions, their hoofbeats like rolling thunder as they ran. 

Charles made it back over the small hill, spurring Taima into a run when he realized what had happened.  
Arthur hadn’t pulled the trigger. Another hunter had. And that shot sent a large part of the herd barreling right towards Arthur.  
Charles ignored the unexpected intruder— the man was already scrambling onto his own horse and galloping away. 

River was a steady-going mare, but could not be faulted for her own nerves giving way when thousands of pounds of muscle and horns came charging at her. 

Angry grunts and bellows from the bison did little to help the situation, the bulls looking for a target or threat to face. 

“Easy, girl!” Arthur barked, tightening River’s reigns and trying to get her back under control. He jerked to the right in an attempt to spin her around and run from the herd, but she reared instead- ears pinned back and eyes wide as she whinnied in fear. 

“Arthur!” Charles shouted, as he watched River rear. Taima was closing the distance between the hilltop and the stampeding herd, but not fast enough. 

Arthur had managed to stay in the saddle as she reared, but the bison had made it to them and seemed intent on ending the threat— their sights currently set on Arthur. 

River was jostled heavily to the right, coming down hard from her upright position and lunging forward to flee the attacking bison. 

Arthur, one hand still gripping his rifle, was bucked up and backwards, right out of the saddle and onto the ground. He gave a shout in surprise as was tossed into the fray. 

A wall of fur, muscle, horn and hoof surrounded him, thundering by as the bison kicked up dust and dirt. 

Charles felt a vein of fear spike through him, chest tightening as he held his breath, hoping to see Arthur get back up and dodge the animals. When Arthur didn’t, Charles knew he only had one chance.  
A small prayer—only half uttered— and a few warning shots from his shotgun were Charles’ last resort, as he spurred Taima right into the oncoming bison. 

The Appaloosa charged with just as much tenacity as the angry bulls that made up the back of the herd, rearing and kicking at any that came too close. 

Dark, impulsive thoughts had Charles only hoping there would be something left of Arthur to save once the last few bison had cleared the area. 

As the beasts stampeded away, the dust finally began to settle. 

Charles scanned area, soon locating Arthur’s limp form not more than a few yards away. 

“Arthur!” Charles called out again, already jumping down off Taima’s back and making it to his side. 

He was surprised to find the man breathing at all— covered in dust and curled up in an attempt to protect his head. 

There was blood, however, flowing freely from a cut along his brow, and a bruise already forming around Arthur’s eye socket. 

“Arthur.” Charles tried again, reluctant to move the other man just yet. He was lucky to even be in one piece at this point. 

With no response other than a wheezing, shallow breath, Charles scooped his arms under the man. The last thing they needed was the bison coming back for round two. 

-

The sky was a heavy shade of violet, that turned orange along the horizon. There was buzzing, and the all too loud crackling of what had to be a fire somewhere off to his left. 

A broken groan escaped Arthur’s lips, which quickly turned int a cough— one that rattled his ribs and made him wish he had not woken. 

It was only then that his currently hollow memory caught up to him. None of his surroundings looked familiar, and it hurt too much to even think of how he had ended up here, let alone move his head to one side of the other. 

It was more than just a nagging uncertainty that quickly sprang up from the back of his mind, telling him that something had gone wrong. Very wrong. A pounding headache did not help the matter.

Another groan and a noise not unlike a whimper escaped him, drawing attention from someone nearby. 

Arthur half expected the end of a gun barrel to appear in his foggy, still swimming vision. 

“Wha-“ He barely managed, when he registered his own hands coming up as if to defend himself from some unseen attacker. 

“Shhh. Shh. Easy. It’s just me. Charles. You’re safe, Arthur.” A suddenly familiar voice paired itself with a face, as Charles leaned over Arthur. 

“...Charles.” The man’s name escaped his lips with a semi-relieved breath, once more aggravating his ribs. 

“Where’re’we—?“ The words tangled themselves into one jumble of letters, but the question was still clear enough. 

“The Heartlands. We were hunting bison. Do you not remember?” Charles’ brow furrowed, worried that Arthur’s knock to the head might be worse than he thought. 

It all came rushing back at once, in the same manner that the herd had come at him a few hours prior. 

“Now I do.” Arthur mumbled, screwing his eyes shut and groaning once more.  
“You got anythin’ for...” Arthur gestured vaguely, in a circle, in a crude attempt at describing that all of him hurt. 

“Unfortunately, no.” Charles sounded quite disappointed, soon explaining why.  
“I know you’d packed some, but they were lost in the stampede.” He sighed, having found several bottles of tonic and medicinal herbs smashed to bits in the aftermath. Must have happened when River reared. 

“Hn. Typical.” Arthur attempted a little chuckle but soon regretted it, settling back onto the bedroll he’d been laid out on. 

“You were lucky to survive that.” Charles spoke, after a long moment of awkward silence. 

“...Don’t feel too lucky right this moment.” Arthur replied, closing his eyes again. 

“Arthur-“ Charles’ tone hardened, almost scolding. 

“I know, I know.” He gave a quiet huff and let his voice return to a mumble. “Thank you. ‘Fer gettin’ me out of there.”  
It was at that moment he seemed to think of something, his eyes darting open and searching what little area he could see around him.  
“River—is she—“ Arthur wheezed as he pushed himself up, his arm instinctively pressing against his side as if to cradle his bruised ribs. 

“She’s alright.” Charles quickly assured him. “Some bumps and scrapes, but she’ll be fine.  
She seemed sorry for bucking you off. Came and stood by you as soon as I made camp.” He added, before pointing towards the trees just a little ways away, Taima and River peacefully munching some grass. 

Another little sigh of relief and he eased himself back once more, wincing again.  
“Sure you don’t have anythin’ on you?” Arthur tried again, even though he knew Charles would have already given him something if he’d had it. 

“I am.” Charles answered, in a sympathetic tone. “Can look for some herbs in the morning, before we head back. You should try to get a little more sleep.” 

“Don’t have much of a choice, I guess.” Arthur sighed, shifting ever so slightly to face Charles.  
“Dutch ain’t gonna be happy if we come back empty handed.” It was more of a grumble this time. 

“I should be able to find a deer or two in the morning.” Charles answered, scraping a little trench into the dirt with the heel of his boot— an absent minded action as he went through the different options in his head. 

“Is there anything you can’t do?” Arthur meant the comment as an off handed thing, but the admiration in his voice was all too apparent. He felt his face flush, and he tried to hide the fact by turning away from the firelight. 

“Clearly I wasn’t able to keep you from getting trampled by bison—“ Charles started, deflecting slightly. 

“—Now don’t you even start that. It was my fault for not gettin’ my damn self out of the way.” Arthur’s tone was a little harsher than intended, his aches and pains getting the better of him.  
“....If it weren’t for you I’d be layin’ out there, gettin’ picked clean by coyotes and buzzards.” Arthur’s voice softened once more, knowing he truly owed his life to Charles. He had the nagging feeling it wouldn’t be the last time, either.  
“I mean it. Thank you.” Arthur finished, a little more ineloquently than he intended, but it was genuine. 

“I know, I know.” Charles replied, his own gaze dropping as he felt Arthur’s eyes on him once more.  
“Now get back to sleep.” He followed with a quick outline of their schedule for the next morning, but Arthur had drifted back into unconsciousness before he had even finished.


	2. DIY Bullet Removal

Prompt: DIY Bullet Removal 

———

Arthur had not planned to bring little Jack along, he and Charles were heading into town simply to pick up supplies for the camp. Still, the boy had insisted he tag along, and Arthur found himself unable to say no.   
Charles nodded in agreement, seeing Arthur’s gaze soften in response to little Jack’s pleading. 

With John out on some scouting business for Dutch, and Abigail looking like she needed a little break, Arthur was hard pressed to say no. There was no hiding he was fond of the kid, so much so that an outsider might mistake Jack for Arthur’s own son. 

While Charles was tying a few empty satchels to the back of Taima’s saddle, Arthur was pulling Jack up onto the front of his own, scooting back just enough to make room for the kid. 

They left camp around nine o’clock in the morning, expecting it would take just under an hour to get into town.   
The time passed quickly, however, the three sharing stories of events from the past few days.   
Most of Jack’s were observations of animals and plants he’d found, but neither Arthur nor Charles minded the simpler topics of conversation. 

As they rode up, Arthur took notice of the already bustling atmosphere.   
A farrier was leading two horses towards the stables, a hunter was unloading a deer carcass from the back of a small wagon, and a few dozen other people were on their own schedules, moving between the different buildings on either side of the main street. 

“What do we need, uncle Arthur?” Jack seemed all to ready to help in his own small measure, looking up to man that sat behind him. 

“Well, I was gonna have Charles pick up some sugar, flower, and potatoes.” Arthur started, as they directed their horses towards the general store. “And we...” Arthur paused to stop his mare in front of the hitching rail and dismount, “...need to get some medicine and ammunition.” Arthur helped Jack down from River’s back, placing him on the ground. 

The three of them only drew a little attention, most of the people minding their own business aside from the few odd stares. 

They weren’t planning on staying any longer than they needed to get supplies, so Arthur paid no mind to the few less hospitable strangers. 

Jack followed close behind Arthur, all but holding on to the end of his jacket as the two men split up. 

Arthur’s first stop was the small doctor’s office to pick up some basics- bandages, painkillers, and a few bottles of tonics, all carefully packed into one of the satchels that Charles had brought.   
The doctor had handed Jack a few sprigs of lavender and a couple mint leaves, after catching the boy staring up at the jars that contained more of both. 

“Thank you!” Jack responded, excited by the gift as he carefully waved the sprigs around. 

“Alright—“ Arthur gave a low chuckle and paid the doctor before ushering Jack back outside, reminding him they had a few more things to get. 

They finished at the gun store not long after, Arthur purchasing more rifle and pistol cartridges. 

With two satchels full of supplies, he headed back to where they had left the horses, and was not surprised to find Charles already packing the rest up. 

“Uncle Charles!” Jack exclaimed, excitement brimming once more as he showed Charles the gifts of mint and lavender. “I’m gonna give them to my momma.” He added, looking just as pleased. 

“They will make a nice gift.” Charles nodded, a smile forming on his lips. “I am sure she will like them.” More endearing was how Jack had recently started addressing him as uncle as well. 

——

They’d finished packing and left town the way they came, but it did not take long for things to seem out of place— namely the group of men that had mounted up and trailed them out of town. 

Both Arthur and Charles had caught on to the apparent ill will of the men following them, but neither could decide if they were thieves, or perhaps a few of their long standing rivals the O’Driscolls. 

The two men seemed to know exactly what the other was thinking— their first priority was protecting little Jack.   
Whoever these strangers were, they wouldn’t likely spare a child that was no use to them.   
Both Arthur and Charles were adamant in not letting any harm come to Jack. 

“Hey.” Arthur started, getting Jack’s attention without wanting to make the boy panic. 

“There are some bad men behind us. We might need to fight them off, but whatever happens I want you to stay behind either me or Charles, you hear?” 

Jack clearly wanted to swing his head around to get a look at the offenders, but he gulped and nodded at Arthur’s words instead. “Ok, Uncle Arthur.” He tightened his grip on the saddle horn and put on a brave face— as much as a child could muster. 

“Brave boy.” Arthur replied, and glanced over to Charles once more. A wordless gesture of his head was the only signal needed for the both of them to spur their mares into a run. Putting some distance between them and the group of men behind them wouldn’t hurt. 

It was that sudden burst of movement that sent the strangers behind them into a chase. Not long after, the bullets started flying. 

Gunshots broke out in a raucous hail, the bullets whizzing past Arthur and Charles. 

Arthur did not hesitate to use his larger frame as a shield, keeping Jack securely in front of him and out of the way of the bullets flying at them from behind.   
Charles wasted no time in pulling his own pistol and firing back. 

Unfortunately, the fact they were outnumbered meant it was only a matter of time before something happened.   
Arthur felt a bullet graze his shoulder, and just afterwards a shout escaped Charles. 

“Charles!” Arthur glanced over to see red blooming around a wound in the other man’s thigh. 

“ ‘m fine, keep going! Down there!” Charles answered, through gritted teeth. 

The two stayed in their saddles, Arthur wrapping an arm around little Jack as they spurred their mares off the main road and into the trees. 

They had just enough time to dismount and for Arthur to place Jack behind a fallen log, and draw the rifle from River’s saddle as he took up a defensive position. 

Charles, wounded but not out of the fight by any means, looked ready to pay the men back for the grief they’d already caused him. 

Shouts of ‘Van der Linde boys’, among other names shouted in their direction, finally identified the attackers as O’Driscolls. 

“Can’t get one peaceful day, can we?” Arthur grumbled, looking over to make sure Charles was really up for this. He was sure the man could handle himself, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t worry.   
“There’s still time, you could take Jack and g—“ Arthur wasn’t able to finish before Charles cut him off. 

“And leave you here to face them alone?” Charles did not need to add a resolute ‘no’ to the end of it for his meaning to be understood. 

“Sometimes I think you’re as stubborn as I am.” Arthur huffed, aimed his rifle, and put a bullet square in the chest of the first O’Driscoll that came over the ridge. 

Charles fired at the next one, two bullets for good measure, and each hitting their mark.   
The O’Driscoll crumpled to the ground and rolled the rest of the way down the hill, dead before he reached the bottom. 

Another bullet grazed Arthur’s arm, taking a little more with it this time, but he only stopped to let a short string of curses escape him before firing again. 

Little Jack kept quiet as he could, flinching as a few stray bullets thunked into the log he was hiding behind. With his hands over his ears, he had shut his eyes tight and hoped the fight would be over soon. 

By some small mercy, it was over not long after it started.   
Between Arthur and Charles, they’d put down all but one of the attackers, the last one getting away with a mangled, bloody hand. 

Adrenaline still pumping, Arthur moved from his position to scoop Jack back up and check him over.   
“You okay, kid?” Arthur asked, relieved to see Jack unfurl a little and nod, still timid after the fight. 

“Charles, you good?” He moved towards the other man, eyes going to the wound in his leg. 

“I’ll live.” Charles grimaced, able to stand but only just. 

“Just sit back down. I don’t think we’ll see any more of them. Gotta tend to that before you fill your boot with blood.” Arthur gave a quick gesture towards Charles’ leg before whistling for River. 

The mare come back with a whinny and a snort, stopping just in front of Arthur, who placed Jack back on the saddle. “Sit there a moment while I help Charles, okay?” Arthur kept his expression calm, not wanting to worry Jack any further. 

“Uncle Charles will really be alright?” Jack held tight to Arthur’s sleeve for a moment, wanting the truth regardless. 

“He will, I’ll make sure of it. Now don’t worry, you hear? We’ll head back to camp soon.” Arthur assured the boy, before thinking of something else.   
“You still have those flowers and mint for your momma?” 

“I do.” Jack nodded, opening his jacket and revealing the plants tucked into one of the pockets. The sprigs of lavender were a bit crumpled, but still mostly intact. 

“Good. You keep those safe and you can give them to her soon. Now sit tight.” Arthur responded, giving a gentle pat to Jack’s back before turning his attention to Charles once more. 

——

The medical supplies they had stocked up on earlier had come in handy, even if Arthur was by no means a doctor. 

“Damn—“ Charles hissed, almost regretting his decision to let Arthur help in this particular fashion. 

The man was currently sitting there, the tip of a knife pressed carefully into the wound in an attempt to scoop the bullet out. 

“Sorry.” Arthur mumbled, “Almost there.” He slipped the knife just a little deeper and with one more slight twist the bullet came free, along with a couple more expletives from Charles. 

“Done.” Arthur let the bullet fall to the ground with a small thud, and wrapped Charles’ leg with a generous strip of gauze.   
The dressing would hold tight enough to slow the bleeding until they could cauterize or stitch the wound back at camp. 

“Don’t become a surgeon.” Charles tried a bit of wry humor, wincing as he stood back up, keeping what weight he could off his sore leg. 

“Hey, now, you know we couldn’t leave it in—“ Arthur replied, with a small huff in exasperation. 

“I know, Arthur. I was giving you a hard time. It was fortunate you were here to help.”   
He let his grimace soften, truly grateful for Arthur’s presence regardless.  
“Thank you.” 

“You can thank me when we get back to camp in one piece.” Arthur said, half amused, and climbed up back into his own saddle, keeping vigilant the rest of the ride home. 

The three of them released a collective sigh of relief when the camp’s borders came into view. Arthur only wondered how he was going to explain this to Abigail.


End file.
